After My Mate Called Me a Traitor, He Begged

The blizzard howled outside, trapping everyone inside the clinic. I sat alone in my quarters, reviewing patient files by the dim light of a lamp. The storm had hit suddenly, forcing Aiden to stay another night. The thought of him being mere walls away made my skin crawl.

I took another drop of Wolfsbane, letting it burn down my throat. The familiar numbness spread through me, reinforcing the barrier between my wolf and the world.

Sleep came fitfully. In my dreams, I was back at the execution post, chains biting into my wrists as the silver whip tore into my flesh again and again.

"Twenty lashes for treason," the Enforcer's voice echoed in my nightmare.

I screamed as the whip cracked across my back, the silver shards embedding in my skin. The pain was so real, so visceral—

"Ashlyn!"

Someone was calling my name. Not Elliott. Ashlyn.

My eyes flew open as I thrashed against the sheets, drenched in sweat. The door to my room crashed open with such force that it splintered against the wall.

Aiden stood in the doorway, his gaunt frame silhouetted against the hallway light. His eyes widened as he took in the scene—me, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, my back exposed where the hospital gown had ridden up.

"No," he whispered, stepping forward. "No, no, no..."

I scrambled to cover myself, but it was too late. He had seen the scars—the distinctive pattern of silver whip marks that crisscrossed my back and neck.

"Ashlyn," he said again, his voice breaking. "It is you."

I reached for my wolfsbane vial on the nightstand, but he was faster. He knocked it away, grabbing my wrists instead.

"Let go of me!" I snarled, thrashing against his grip.

"You're having night terrors," he said, his eyes filled with a mixture of horror and understanding. "About the whipping."

The mention of it sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. I jerked away from him violently, doubling over as bile rose in my throat. I vomited onto the floor, my body convulsing with the force of my revulsion.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Aiden backed away, his face ashen. "Ashlyn, please—"

"GET OUT!" My voice cracked as I shrieked it. "GET OUT!"

He stumbled backward through the broken door, leaving me alone with my shame and rage.

---

Three days later, I was treating a rogue with a silver bullet wound when I noticed Aiden slip into the laboratory. I pretended not to see him, focusing instead on my patient's injury.

"Hold still," I instructed the rogue as I extracted the silver fragment from his shoulder. "This will hurt."

The rogue hissed as I poured antiseptic over the wound. "You're good at this."

"Practice," I replied tersely, stitching the wound closed.

I didn't realize Aiden had returned until I heard the laboratory door close behind me. I turned to find him standing there, a glass slide in his hand.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

He held up the slide—one I had used earlier to test my own blood. "Analyzing a sample I found."

My blood ran cold. "That's private."

"So is poisoning yourself." He placed the slide under the microscope. "May I?"

I said nothing, watching as he adjusted the focus, studying the sample with growing horror.

"Wolfsbane," he said finally, his voice hollow. "Enough to kill any werewolf."

"Not enough to kill me," I corrected coldly. "Just enough to keep her quiet."

Aiden's eyes met mine, filled with dawning understanding. "You're poisoning yourself to suppress your wolf."

"To suppress my scent," I clarified. "To make sure no Alpha could ever track me again."

The realization hit him like a physical blow. He staggered back against the lab table.

"You'd rather die slowly than be found by me," he whispered.

I turned away, busying myself with cleaning instruments. "The dose is carefully controlled. I won't die."

"But you're suffering."

"That's the point."

---

I was preparing dinner in the kitchen when Aiden slammed the lab results on the counter in front of me.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion.

I continued chopping vegetables, refusing to look at him. "No more games, Elliott."

"Answer me!" His fist crashed down on the counter, making me jump. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

I dropped the knife and slowly turned to face him. Something in me snapped—five years of carefully constructed walls crumbling all at once.

"Because of you," I said, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging inside me. "Because I would rather die slowly than be your mate."

I stepped closer, dropping all pretense of being Elliott. "I didn't survive to return to you, Aiden. I survived to make sure you died alone."

His face crumpled as I unleashed five years of repressed rage. "Do you know what it's like to be chained to that post? To feel the silver tear into your flesh while your mate watches without blinking?"

I traced the scar on my neck with trembling fingers. "To hear him plan his next conquest with another woman while you're still bleeding?"

"I never—" he began, but I cut him off.

"I heard you," I hissed. "In your office. With Reina. 'It's done. The Stones are ruined.'"

Aiden's eyes widened in shock. "Ashlyn, I can explain—"

"Explain what?" I laughed bitterly. "How you used me to destroy my family? How you let them take my baby?"

My voice broke as I mentioned my child for the first time in five years. "How you let them tell me he was a monster?"

Aiden reached for me, but I recoiled from his touch. "I didn't know about the baby. I swear it."

"You knew enough," I spat. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you let them whip me. When you let them break me."

I stepped back, my eyes cold despite the tears threatening to fall. "And now you're dying. Alone. Just as you deserve."

Aiden's face went white as he realized the full weight of what he had done—and what I had become because of it.